Beyond Normal
by wearemonsters
Summary: archive/dead/not being updated
1. Call of Darkness

-1'Dean?'

Hands grasped firmly the sleek steering wheel, he smile inside, the feeling of the wheel in his hands was so familiar and comforting.

'Dean?'

The purr of the engine set his mind at ease, but he knew that could be deceiving because when he really put his foot down, the car boomed, roared. It was a powerful contraption. Dean revelled in it. The thrill of the acceleration pedal being pushed to the floor and the growl of the engine was better than any drug for Dean.

Sam sighed, kicking himself for even trying to get through to Mr. Mystery over there in the driver's seat. His new attitude scared the crap out of him, Sam had lost everything apart from Dean. Now he felt like he was losing him to something he couldn't fight, that maybe Dean couldn't fight either. That horrible feeling of apathy and self-loathing. But the worst thing? Dean wasn't even trying.

'Dean!'

'What, Sammy, what?!' Snapping, Dean turned his head and glared at his younger brother, eyes torn away from the road, just as Sam's expression of mild-annoyance turned into flat out panic and horror.

'Dean! Watch out!'

Facing forward, Dean whirled his head back and let out a gasp as his beauty of a car hurtled towards the teenager standing in the middle of the road. Head facing down, stock-still, arms by his sides. He showed no signs of moving, or even being alive for that matter.

'HOLY SHI-' Dean slammed on the brakes, spinning the wheel in his now damp hands. The car screamed in protest, oh, it was powerful alright, but asking it to stop midway through tearing down the road was too much to ask, even for the beast that Dean was controlling.

'DEAN!' Sam shouted above the shriek of metal and rubber on gravel road.

There was one last screech of metal and the roaring of the engine and the boy in the road just stood there watching the car race towards him and the two brothers closed their eyes for a moment as the car span out of control.

Then came darkness.

The bruised and swollen sky pulsed almost, before it began to rain.

Darkness.


	2. Blind Faith

-1Sam woke first, his head throbbing, battered and bruised, but otherwise unhurt. Groaning, he lifted his head from the dashboard, gingerly checking for broken bones. He didn't appear to find any, there was no nausea or dizziness so Sam assumed he was safe from any sort of concussion or head trauma.

'Dean?'

Turning, the youngest Winchester let out a pent up breath he didn't realise he had been keeping in, Dean was in a similar state; bruised but fine, he blinked a couple of times before breaking into a grin.

'You alright Sammy boy?'

'I'm fine, Dean.'

'Now let's check what that fucker's done to my car..'

Sam, smirked, rolled his eyes, then climbed out of the equally torn out car.

'Dean?'

'Oh man, look at this! Look at this! I only just got this damn thing back into shape!' Dean whined loudly, putting his hands on his head, he was seconds away from stamping his foot on the floor and bawling.

Sam bit his bottom lip worriedly. '**Dean?!**'

Almost snarling, Dean shook his head and looked at Sam. 'What?! Can't you see I'm trying to panic her- Holy shit.'

In the middle of a road lay a body, the same kid they had seen before. His hands were still by his sides. Sam paused before rushing over to him, fingers finding the boy's wrist. But as Sam's soaked hands reached out and took the boy's, he jumped backwards, almost skidding over.

'Sam? What's up?' Dean asked, surveying the scene with dark eyes.

'Uh, nothing,' Sam lied through gritted teeth. When his fingers touched the boy's skin, there was a surge of heat, blood boiling, scorchingly hot. Slowly, Sam reached out again, brushing the boy's wrist with his fingertips. Nothing.

Still gnawing on his bottom lip, Sam turned the boy's hand around and felt for a pulse. But not before he saw the bloody mess on the underside of the boy's skin. It was red raw, a maw of symbols and complicated lines and shapes. Eyes widening, Sam poured over them, again brushing them with his fingers. The symbols had a greasy sheen of blood coloured over them.

'Sam? Is he alright?'

Looking over at Dean, Sam remembered what he was doing and quickly felt for the boy's pulse.

'There's a pulse, but it's weak.'

'Good, that's good, right?' Dean replied, shaking his head again. Sam looked back at the boy's wrist. There was no wound, no carving of symbols embedded in flesh.

Startled, Sam closed his eyes and opened them again. Still no symbols.

Thinking hard for a moment, the gears in his mind spinning with remarkable efficiently, Sam manoeuvred the boy and lay him down by the car, so that his head was away from the gathering puddles of frigid water pooling around them.

'Hey, hey, can you hear me?' Sam said softly. He couldn't see any visible injuries, there didn't appear to be any broken, fractured or dislocated bones jutting out of any limbs. He actually looked pretty damn good for somebody who had been supposedly hit by a car.

The boy's eyes fluttered, a faint noise, a groan perhaps, escaped from his blood caked lips - Sam hadn't noticed this little fact before, slowly he put his head slightly closer to the boy's, attentively listening to what he was trying to say.

'NO!' The word echoed across the landscape, cutting through the rain like a razor blade, there was a sound like a whip and Sam was catapulted into the air, landing haphazardly on his back with a yelp several feet away from the boy.

'Sam!' Dean delved into his pocket, pulling the .36 from his pocket, there was a click as he hurriedly loaded it and cocked it at the boy.

'Dean, don't!' Sam shouted from the ground, easing himself back up, wincing slightly.

'W-What?! Sa-'

'Don't.'

The voice wasn't Sam's this time, the two brothers looked over at the boy. He was stood up now, leaning against the car for support, hands slipping on the wet metal before he managed to regain his balance.

'P-Please, I didn't… I didn't mean to…'

His eyes rolled back and he fell forward.

There was a thump as he landed on the soaking floor. The soft underside of his wrist was facing up, Sam saw the symbols again, etched into flesh. By the time he registered it though, they were gone. They stared at the boy for a moment before Sam and Dean looked at each other.

'Just another day for the Winchesters..' Dean muttered under his breath.

'We should take him to the motel with us,' Sam said as he stood over the boy, frowning down at him.

'What?! Sam, are you serious?'

'Uh, yeah! You saw what he could do.'

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the depth of Sam's ignorance for a second before he opened them and glared at him. 'Yeah, exactly.' His voice went a step louder. 'I saw what he can do, he nearly killed you!'

Sam let out a hollow laugh, paused, then with little effort, lifted the boy into his arms. The kid let out a groan, winced, but was otherwise silent. There was no instant searing of pain this time, Sam was grateful of that.

'Sam! What the hell do you think you're doing?!' Dean demanded, hand drawn to the gun that he had put back into his jacket, waiting for the inexplicable cracking sound and the falling body of his sibling.

Sam sighed, shaking his head at Dean, and proceeded to lay the boy gently in the back seat of the bruised car.

'Sam, seriously? You're not putting that thing into my car!'

'That thing? Dean, he's just a kid.'

'A kid that can throw people around like rag dolls? Remember the last 'kid' who could do that? Yeah, the one that started murdering people, remember him?'

Sam turned to Dean, glaring. 'This one, he's different. You've gotta trust me with this, Dean.'

'Look, Samm-'

'Stop calling me that! I'm not six years old anymore, Dean. My name's Sam, alright?

The words cut through Dean like a knife. He stood there, speechless for a moment before grunting and walking to the driver's seat.

Sam exhaled, paused so he could let the rain soak into his skin a little more and cleanse him. It didn't work.

Looking up at the battered sky, Sam opened the passenger door and slid into the car, the seats squeaking slightly.

'Dean?'

Instead of replying, Dean stared out of the smeared windscreen before booting the car into willing ignition and slamming his foot down.

Sam kicked himself inwardly, however, in the back of his mind his mind was locked on the bloody symbols and the body on the back seat.


	3. Sanctuary

-1They arrived at the motel in under an hour, and most of that time was divided between Sam trying to coax a response from his brother, nervously glancing at the mumbling presence in the back seat and hoping the car wouldn't cut out on them. Dean had said nothing during the short trip, Sam didn't blame him really, but he'd be damned if he was expected to be in a nice, laughing, joking mood after what had happened. Sam had _seen_. Not a vision, per say, but he knew that the boy was needed for something, they had to bring him along. Why? Sam wasn't sure yet, but he could feel something coming.

"We're here,' Sam said quietly, itching to get out of the car.

'Yeah - I can see that,' Dean said with indifference, unbuckling his seat belt and climbing out of the car. Sam heard him mention something about booking a room before he disappeared into the rain.

Sat in the car, Sam listened to the rain assault the roof before he turned to the boy on the backseat. 'Looks like it's me and you, kid,' Sam said quietly before getting out of the car, opening the backdoor and reaching out and taking the boy in his arms. Sam's mind was whirring again as he thought of an excuse why he had a injured, fainted minor in his arms. He'd think of something.

Walking briskly into the motel, he realised how much of a shithole, for lack of a better word, it was. It was like something you'd see in a movie, the dark, dingy ones where you've always got a murderer/rapist/molester in the room at the end of the corridor. Sam shivered slightly, partly from the rain and partly from the fact it was colder inside than it was out. Dean was standing by the counter where a grizzled man was hunched over, scowling at Sam as he arrived, squelching shoes making a mess of the tatty carpet. Dean looked over at his shoulder, nodded at Sam, and made his way towards a corridor Sam hadn't noticed before, presuming Sam would follow him. The owner of the motel's scowl hardened as Sam walked past him, the man's gaze fixed on the boy in Sam's arm. Sam paused for a moment, and let out a laugh that sounded as hollow as the Motel's income.

'My nephew's a real deep sleeper, the ride over here nearly killed him,' Sam said, the irony of this statement was almost sickening.

The man nodded gruffly, but his beady eyes were still rested on the boy. Sam didn't like the intestity of the man's gaze, so he quickly hurried after Dean, who was just entering the motel room. Following him in, Sam realised how truly right he had been about the place. The room was medium sized at best, two single beds with scratchy looking sheets on and a pile of sheets that was probably a makeshift bed in the corner adorned the room. He could see a bathroom was provided, the entry was at the left hand side of the room, but Sam wasn't eager to check it out. Shuffling further into the room, Sam lay the boy down on the nearest bed, he didn't make a sound apart from the constant murmuring he was making under his breath.

Watching him for a second, Sam was knocked back to his senses as he heard the door slam somewhere behind him, turning, he rushed back out and saw Dean stalking off.

'Dean?' He shouted after him from the threshold.

'I'm getting something to eat,' Dean replied simply before disappearing around the corner without another word.

Sam shrugged slightly, deciding to pass it off as male PMS, he couldn't think about how angry Dean was right now, he had a bigger problem. Sam closed the door quietly, although it was pointless, because right now? The boy who had been sleeping was stood up, staring at Sam with fear in his eyes.


	4. Stockholme Syndrome

-1'W-Who're you?!' he demanded.

Sam whirled around, quickly putting his hands up to show he was unarmed, or at the very least not dangerous, because he knew full well what could happen if he was perceived as a threat, or rather, more of a threat.

'It's okay! It's okay, just.. Just calm down. My name's Sam, Sam Winchester,' Sam said slowly, not wanting to alarm the kid.

'Like the gun?' the boy said softly, eyes flashing around the room, making sure there wasn't anything about to jump out at him or anything.

Sam chuckled slightly, but realised it wasn't the best time to be laughing. 'Yeah, like the gun.'

'How.. How did I get here?'

Sam blinked. 'You don't remember?' he asked quizzically, but judging by the look on the boy's face, he obviously didn't. 'We, uh, that's me and my brother, Dean, were driving down route 13?' The boy showed no signs of recognising it. 'Yeah so, we wer driving and all of a sudden, you appeared out of nowhere. We almost hit you, thank God we didn't. We ended up in a small ravine, woke up, and you were there on the floor. We, uh, thought you looked injured so we brought you with us.'

Okay, that was a lie. But Sam couldn't exactly say 'yeah, you were unconscious on the floor, I couldn't leave you considering the possibly occult engravings embedded in your wrist, oh, and when you woke up you threw me back telekinetically and proceeded to faint.' Yeah, that'd be an icebreaker alright.

'Oh, I see,' the boy said faintly, before slowly sitting on the bed. He looked tired, exhausted. Sam couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness sear through him. Sear. Hey, that's a thought..

'Can I check something?' Sam said gently, pushing his look and moving forwards, kneeling in front of the boy.

'Uh, what?'

'Your wrist, I thought I saw some severe bruising earlier, and uh, I just want to make sure that you don't risk getting a blood clot in the swollen tissue or anything,' Sam lied, hell, that didn't even make any sense. But unless the boy was a medical student or something, Sam was relatively safe.

'No!' the boy yelped as Sam reached out to take his wrist. 'I'm fine, really, I'm fin-' Sam ignored him and grabbed his wrist, only to be stricken by the same phenomenon as before; the searing, blindingly hot pain all over his body, and then the, getting really too familiar with, cracking sound as he was pushed backwards, but this time only a few feet, Sam didn't lose his balance. The boy, however, was glaring at Sam, holding his wrist with one hand, and Sam could see the blood oozing between his fingers.

'I knew it!' Sam blurted out, staring at the blood that was now dripping onto the floor. The boy looked terrified, but strangely, he didn't look like he was in pain.

'I-I have to go,' he said quickly, running towards the door but Sam grabbed him midst ride, pulling him back towards the room.

'No! You can't leave, not yet!' Sam said, still grappling with him.

'You can't keep me here! This is kidnapping!'

'No, please, just listen to what I have to say!'

Sam felt the boy sad slightly in his arm, Sam raised his eyebrow, a little uncomfortably, as the boy even seemed to lean further towards Sam. After a moment of the awkward grapple-embrace, Sam pushed him away gently.

'So what's your name, kid?'

The boy furrowed his brow, on one hand, he could tell Sam his real name, on the other he could make up an alias. But, either way, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. Like Sam, the boy had the irrespirable feeling that he needed to stay with Sam, and his brother, what was it, Dan?

'Christopher, Chris, Hunter.'

'Hunter?' Sam asked, barely repressing a laugh, oh the world's fun of poetic justice.

'Yeah, Hunter,' Chris said pointedly, looking rather irriated now. Sam noticed that his wrist had stopped weeping with blood, how bizarre.

'Chris, can I ask you something?'

'I suppose I don't have a choice.'

'When did your ability first manifest?'

Chris looked like he had been slapped, eyes widening slightly. 'How.. How did you..'

'What, you mean apart from being thrown backwards, twice?'

'Oh, well, uhm,' Chris said awkwardly, mimicking Sam's habit and chewing his bottom lip.

'Please, just, answer the question? It's important.'

'I don't remember, not that long ago, a few months? Half a year, something like that..'

'Hm, yeah, I thought so,' Sam said quietly, his own brow furrowed in concentration. 'So it's, uh, telekinesis, right?

Chris grinned despite himself, nodding. 'Yeah, I guess that's part of it.'

'Wait, what, part of it?' Sam asked, eyes wide again as he absorbed this bit of knowledge. Chris had another ability? They hadn't encountered anybody with a multitude of abilities before.

'Uh, yeah. I can do other things as well.. My, my, my..' Chris' voice became thick, he swallowed the lump in his throat and continued, 'My brother told me what they all were.. Telekinesis, psychometry, precognition and a little bit of, uh, telepathy..'

Sam almost did a double take, his mind boggling. 'Shit, seriously? Wow. That's.. that's very impressive, much better than what I can do..' Sam muttered, feeling a little bit outdone.

Chris shifted nervously, 'You have a power too?'

Sam nodded, kicking himself for mentioning that. 'Uh, yeah, I'm precognitive too, I guess. But not as wide spread, I have premonitions about people who're gonna, uh, die.'

'Death visions. You have death visions?'

'Yeah, yeah I kinda do.'

Chris shook his head. 'Shit, and I thought I had it bad..' He broke out into a laugh.

Sam grinned, 'So, I need you to do something for me.'

'Yeah, what?'

'I need you to stick around for a bit, until I can figure out what's, uh..'

'What demon you're dealing with.'

Holy shit, this kid was something else, Sam thought. 'You know about demons? Sam shook his head, of course he did. 'And yeah, you hit the nail on the head, so, will you do it?'

Chris become lost in thought, staring intently at Sam, particularly his eyes. You could tell a lot about someone by the look in their eyes, Sam's were especially nice, warm and friendly, inviting even. They reminded Chris of his brother. Which was partly a good thing..

'That's great, thanks a lot Chris. I promise I won't murder you in your sleep,' Sam said with a grin.

'I don't think it'll be problem, I could take you.'

Sam smirked, but it was more than forced. How was Dean going to take this new revelation? Sam already knew the answer to that; badly.


	5. Sam's Verdict

-1Chris kinda enjoyed being kidnapped, if all possible child molesters/rapists/murderers/kidnappers/paedophiles were like Sam, well, maybe things wouldn't turn out so badly. That sounded really weird, but whatever. Chris liked Sam, a lot. His eyes, especially, Chris liked people's eyes. Sam's were particular nice. They were a deep brown, like vats of melted chocolate, but flecked with darker hues here and there. And they were beyond expressive, Chris guessed that Sam was one of those people that didn't hide their emotions, and even if he tried, his eyes would betray him immediately.

Just something that Chris noticed.

Sitting on the bed, propped up on his elbows, Chris listened rapidly to all the information that Sam was spouting out, family history, some girl called Jessica, Sam and Dean's parents… everything that Sam was quietly carrying around on his shoulders.

Sam was opposite Chris, talking raptly still until he realised that the kid was staring at him. Breaking into a grin, Sam cocked his head slightly. 'Man, listen to me going on.. Sorry, I'm sure I'm boring you.'

Chris looked vaguely scandalised, shaking his head defiantly. 'Definitely not! It's actually really interesting, all the hunting you've done and stuff.'

Sam looked down at the bed sheets, before raising his head. 'Really, you think so?'

'Oh yeah! Man, I could learn so much from you.. And Dean, I guess..' Chris replied, nodding enthusiastically.

'So did you brother teach you about hunting?' Sam asked simply, regarding the boy with a curious expression, that quickly turned to alarm as Chris' features began showing an ocean of sadness. 'Chris? What's wrong?'

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting the churning in his stomach before he replied with a secret that nobody knew. 'My, uhm, my brother died about half a year ago..'

Sam's face paled, and he reached out and patted Chris on the knee gently. 'Shit, Chris, I'm so sorry.'

'It was a demon that did it,' Chris continued, eyes glazed over, obviously he wasn't in the room right now. 'Some crazy satanic-driven guy who, I dunno, embraced some demon spirit, I think. He was 10 kinds of crazy though, thought that by sacrificing a 'pure soul' he'd ascend to something beyond evil, I guess.'

It was Sam's turn to listen, feeling the sympathy, and dare he say it, sympathy for the boy rocketing skywards.

'But my brother, Matt, still went after them, I tagged along, of course, I couldn't leave him. But he was too strong for us.. Way too strong, he tied me up, man, so tight, I couldn't move, could barely breath..'

The hand that Sam patted Chris' knee was now resting there, a pitiful sign of support, but was apparently comforting because Chris' ragged breathing calmed a little.

'He took Matt to this altar thing, strapped him down onto it, there were all these symbols everywhere,' Chris held up his wrist where the engravings were, they shined slightly in the dim motel light, no longer oozing blood though. 'Symbols like these, I'd never seen them before.. He carved them into Matt, too, but not on his wrist, on his chest. He screamed, oh god, he screamed.. And then he killed him, right in front of me. Dagger through the heart, there was so much blood..' Chris fumbled for something in his jeans pocket, pulling out a ripped and tattered piece of paper, he handed it to Sam slowly, as if hesitant to reveal it. 'I don't remember anything after that, it's all just a big blank.'

Sam held the paper in his hand, humbled that Chris would trust him with whatever it was, slowly, he opened it and realised that it was a picture, a beaten one, but a picture nonetheless. Sam studied it for a moment, instantly recognising Chris, but he was drastically different. He had a medium length, choppy brown hair, the grin on his face looked oddly strange, as if the Chris that Sam knew wasn't capable of such a feat. He looked fuller as well, just happier though. Next to him, his muscular arms strung across his brother's shoulders, stood Matthew Hunter. He was a handsome guy, the same features as his brother, but much more defined, he had grown into his lean frame, and his hair was cut short, however it was the same colour as Chris'.

'It was taken two weeks before he died,' Chris said numbly, before reaching out quickly and taking back the photo, stuffing it back into his pocket, but not before Sam caught Chris staring longingly as it.

'I'- I'm uh, really sorry Chris, I didn't know..'

'Well know you do,' Chris said finally, and even though Sam could almost feel his heartache, the boy broke out into a smile. It was at that moment, Sam knew; fuck Dean, fuck rules, fuck everything else; Chris was staying with them. They needed someone with as much resilience as Sam and Dean put together.


	6. Psychic Maelstrom

-1The rotten taste of cheap burgers and fries had certainly taken the edge off of Dean's bad mood, now all's he could think about was how the hell he was gonna digest the shit they served in the motel. As he was walking to the room, his mind began to reel off of the plastic imitation food towards much more important things; the boy that was now leeching off of Dean's credit card fraud. Sam and Dean's motel room door opened with a squeak that probably indicated woodworm, stepping through the threshold and into the room, he was greeted - rather unpleasantly - with Sam laughing and joking with the kid.

'Well, looks like Sleeping Beauty's awake,' Dean said mockingly, staring daggers at the younger boy on the bed, who simply glared back defiantly, with the same expression.

'Dean, I need to talk to you,' Sam said quickly, raising his eyebrows at his brother which clearly said _play nice, Dean._ 'Chris, we're just stepping outside for a minute, do you mind?'

The boy shrugged, saying nothing. Sam found this unusual, Chris had just opened up to Sam, but with the entrance of Dean, he had appeared to become more withdrawn. Sam nodded to Dean, swiftly standing up from the bed and grabbing Dean's arm, pulling him out of the room. Before the door closed, Dean caught the boy staring at him.

'Dean, this kid is amazing!' Sam said as soon as he heard the _click_ of the door. Dean raised an eyebrow suspicially.

'Yeah, I bet he is, was he that amazing when he almost killed you?' Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm as if it were honey. Sam shook his head quickly.

'No, you don't understand, that's only half of it! He's got these… extreme abilities, so much stronger than mine.'

'Really now, like what?'

'Like what?! Everything! Telekinesis, minor telepathy, precognitive, clairvoyance, psychokenesis.. Even pyschometry!'

'Okay, I got most of that, but remind me; pyschometry?'

'Oh, right, yeah, psychometrics can hold an item and get information about the item, or whoever touched it, anything like that. I mean, this kid is powerful, he's got the potential to obtain and control any form of ESP out there, astral projection, clairsentience, even mediumship or remote viewing.'

Dean raised an eyebrow again, Sam was saying that scrawny kid was some sort of extremely powerful 'psychic?'

'I know, it sounds crazy, but this kid, Chris, he could be a great asset.'

The eldest Winchester broke out into a scowl, 'So you're adverse to me killing him when he could be a demon, but not to using him as a demon-fighting machine?'

It was Sam's turn to look vexed. 'No! I said asset, not a weapon. I mean, c'mon, somebody with that many abilities, with the potential for more, he could really help us.' Sam wasn't being completely truthful, he wanted to keep Chris with them because he thought, no, he knew, that the kid was in great danger. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Dean rolled his eyes, stalking past Sam into the room, opening the door aggressively. 'Whatever, just keep..' Dean glared at Chris, 'him out of my face, I ain't a babysitter.'

Chris clenched his fists at his side, repressing the almost overwhelming urge to hang Dean upside down by his feet… he grinned at the thought. Sam, however, recognising the familiar _Dean's-gonna-get-his-ass-kicked _look, rushed to Chris and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly. 'Don't worry about it, Dean, I promise you won't even know he's here, promise.'

The grin that was on Chris' face lingered, giving Dean a sour expression but he slowly nodded, turning away into the bathroom. 'It's late, you should get to sleep.'

Sam looked at Chris and lightly pushed him. 'Don't piss him off, Chris, you're our guest.'

Chris snorted, the smirk ghosting across his features again, 'You kidnapped me!'

'No! I… took you in,' Sam said after a moment of amused thought.

'Whatever, I'll sleep on the floor tonight,' Chris said finally, looking at the makeshift bed on the floor.

'You can sleep in the bed, if you want,' Sam said looking rather abashed, he felt a little guilty forcing the kid they had almost run over to sleep on the floor.

'Easy there tiger, we've only just met,' Chris said, winking slyly and slipping onto the faux-bed, but not before he saw Sam grinning sheepishly with a blush plastered on his face. He wasn't quite sure why he said it, but it seemed like something a horny teenager would say. Not that he was horny or anything..

Chris lay down on the scratchy sheets, a new expression on his face. He could feel it, calling to him, quietly at first but the voice got louder and louder.. It screamed at him. It was angry. And it was coming.


	7. When Dead Men Talk

-1

'_Samuel.'_

_Sam's head cocked at the sound of his name, his full name which was bad enough. He was standing waist deep in cold water, but the chill from it didn't seem to effect him, he knew he should've been shivering, but he wasn't._

'_Samuel Winchester.'_

_That voice again, Sam stared hard around him, but he could only see water. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink._

'_SAMUEL WINCHESTER!'_

_And suddenly, Sam could see him, straight ahead of him. And he knew, he knew it was coming! Oh, god, it was after him. Inspired, no, driven by instinct rather than intellect, he ran, waded, splashed, pushed his way towards the man ahead of him. A cold sweat coated his skin, he could feel it this time, dripping down his body. The man was no more than a arm's length away, he wanted to tell him to run, but his tongue just lolled stupidly in his mouth, they were all going to die._

_Hands clamped on the man's shoulders, and Sam turned him around aggressively, demanding answers. But the sight that he saw horrified him. It was Chris, no, not Chris, but someone remarkably like Chris, his brother, Matt. He was bruised and bloody, he could see the stupidly high amount of injuries around him, and the carvings that revealed bone in his chest._

'_He is not what you think he is,' the apparition said thickly as blood spilt out of his mouth._

'_Who isn't!?' Sam demanded, only half-realising he could now speak. 'Chris?'_

'_A whirlwind of blood and horror will be unleashed to any who try to get close to him. He is not what you think. There is evil within him.'_

_Sam was bewildered, this was like something you'd see on some shitty horror film._

'_Blood and thunder.'_

_Sam realised that the person in front of him was now a corpse, flesh hanging off of bones and sinew hanging off of putrid muscle._

'_Blood and thunder,' Matt said again, and Sam wondered how somebody without a jaw could talk._

'_Blood and thunder.'_

_The markings on the chest were still there._

'_Blood and thunder!'_

_They glowed and maggots seemed to fester within them._

'_HE WILL KILL YOU ALL.'_

Sam awake with a yelp, covered in a cold sweat that left a chill within him, as he fell off of the side of the bed, landing ungracefully on Chris who was now buried between Sam's limbs and damp sheets. Waking with a start, Chris gasped slightly, then in embarrasment as he realised there was a half naked Winchester pressing against him.

'Shit, shit, shit, shit,' Sam mumbled softly, eyes screwed shut.

'Sam? What is it, man? You alright?' Chris asked quietly, his face inches away from Sam's. He could smell his breath, which even at this hour smelt slightly of mint and, what was it, strawberries?

Sam's eyes snapped open with a start, he could still see a corpse in front of him, before he realised that it was Chris. Just Chris.

'_HE WILL KILL YOU ALL.' _The voice echoed in his head, threatening to split it open.

'S-Sorry, Chris, I had a… a nightmare, didn't mean to… uh, fall on you,' Sam said through his night chills, realising he was still on top of the boy. He didn't show any signs of moving though until Chris eventually - after he was sure the memory of Sam against him was burnt into his memory - he gently pushed Sam away, who looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

'I'm alright,' Sam said quietly. 'I'm alright.' He looked at Chris with a meaningful look, but Chris could only see confusion.

He couldn't pin down anything else, because he slowly stood up and clambered back into his bed, staring at the opposite wall.

Chris could still smell him, still feel him against himself.

'Blood and thunder,' Sam said softly.

Chris didn't hear him.

Blood and thunder.

_HE WILL KILL YOU ALL._

The marks on Chris' wrist began to bleed.

Chris didn't notice.

_BLOOD AND THUNDER._


	8. Blood Red Kisses

-1Sam woke up with a mouthful of sand and a headache that threatened to rip apart his skull. Slipping out of bed -almost crushing Chris- and stumbling into the bathroom, he rummaged around the cracked mirror-cabinet for some Aspirin, failing to find any, he instead swallowed half a bottle of something he couldn't pronounce that was supposed to 'relieve head, neck, back, stomach and period pains', fortunately for Sam he hadn't started his 'time of the month' yet so the foul smelling liquid only helped his head. Turning the leaky tap on, Sam ran the water for a few minutes before cupping his hands together and slurping it down his throat quickly, the dryness - and bad taste from the medicine - vanished quickly. Staring into the mirror for a moment, Sam realised that he could see something he didn't like; there was a fear in his eyes that hadn't existed earlier, a dark knowing that whatever bad was coming was related to Chris. Sam knew it. Maybe. But he couldn't believe it, he had already put so much faith into the kid, how could he doubt him now? Sure, he had no basis to trust him, but the fact that he hadn't ran to the cops shouting that he'd been kidnapped was a good sign.

Right?

'Penny for your thoughts?'

Sam turned and found himself squinting through morning eyes at Chris who was leaning against the doorway. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and looked thoroughly dishevelled, the mop of brown hair on his head sticking out as strange directions was enough to make Sam chuckle. Almost. Automatically Sam's eyes flashed towards the markings on Chris' wrist which were barely visible, but as soon as Sam saw them - felt them - a splitting pain coursed through his skull as he saw them etched in flesh on somebody's chest. He shook his head, he didn't want to worry Chris. _He also didn't want to alert him that he was suspicious._ Sam forced a grin, eyes now resting onto to Chris' electric blue ones that Sam hadn't paid any attention to before, but they were oddly hypnotising…

'Did you just saw 'penny for your thoughts'?' Sam asked, raising one eyebrow expertly. Chris blushed and looked down at the floor, cheeks tinged with red.

'It's 9am, you try thinking of something wittier,' he said, abashed. Sam's grin now had a slightly real gleam to it as he shook his head. Awkwardly, he put a hand on his bare chest, expecting to find a thread he could nervously fiddle with before he realised what time it was, and that he was stood in nothing but his boxers. _So maybe there's another reason why Chris is so embarrassed.. _Sam found himself thinking, before shaking his head again, appalled with himself. On the other hand, Chris was using everything inside of him to stop himself from pushing Sam against the basin and forcing his tongue into his mouth, hands would be braver though, running across Sam's chest and going lower and lower until they would play idly - and expectantly - with the waistband of Sam's boxers before he began t-

Chris blinked, forcing these images out of his head with grim determination. Frowning slightly, he looked up at Sam who was looking at him strangely. Shuffling his feet slightly, Chris realised something. 'Hey, Sam, where'd Dean go?'

Sam's eyebrows raised again and he suppressed a yawn, now looking vaguely confused. 'Dean? What, he's not in bed?' Chris shook his head, shrugging slightly. Suddenly, Sam was overcome by that deep and primal feeling that something was horribly wrong. A cold sweat had begun to form on Sam's body and he quickly moved from where he was to the bedroom, pushing past Chris roughly who inhaled sharply. Staring at the bed that Dean had slept in the night previously, the feeling that had been festering inside of him threatened to overwhelm him.

'Sam? What is it, what's wrong?' Chris asked, now looking worried, the fear that Sam felt mirrored in his eyes.

'It's Dean, his… his bed's made,' Sam said uncertainly, running his hand across the perfectly made sheets on Dean's bed. 'Dean.. He doesn't make his bed.'

Chris was looking at him like he was crazy, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like Dean, it was out of place. The room seemed to grow colder as Sam's fingers grabbed the same scratchy sheets softly, the fear bit Sam's insides as he pulled the sheets back forcefully, casting them aside. Sam's breath caught inside his throat.

He heard Chris moan softly, turning away with his hand over his mouth.

Underneath the sheet was blood, lots and lots of blood. It looked as if a painter had splashed red hues like a toddler. The metallic odour had risen now the sheets weren't suppressing it, and it assaulted Sam's senses maliciously. Sam tried to inhale but he couldn't, oxygen froze inside his throat and turned into broken glass, cutting his insides. The horror subsided slightly as Sam looked closer at the bloody sheets, an idea forming in his head. 'Chris?'

Chris came forward, cringing at the smell of blood that assaulted him as he stood dangerously close to Sam. 'Y-Yeah?'

'I need you to do something for me.' It wasn't a request, and Sam knew that Chris was aware what he had to do.

'No, I can't, but..' Chris looked at the sheets, then slowly, turned his gaze to Sam. 'I can if you help me, you'll See, too.'

Sam nodded grimly. Chris took a moment to centre himself, gathering his strength, slowly, almost painfully slowly, he reached out a hand and touched the sheets, fingers finding the bloodiest area he could. Cringing, wincing, gagging, Chris put his hand firmly into Dean's blood. Sam felt a huge surge of admiration for him, then as Chris reached out with his other hand, Sam took it firmly. He squeezed the boy's fingers, but the act of comfort was passed over as Chris began concentrating. Once he began, there was no room in his head to focus on the fact that the smoking hot Winchester brother was almost naked and holding his hand in his stronger one, he could only see the blood. The blood. The blood and Dean, Dean, the blood, Dean..

_He's alone in a room, shacked to the wall but not by any physical means, he's crying out as an out-of-sight person is hitting him, bruises and contusions decorate Dean's body. He's screaming now, not because of the pain but because he's scared, terrified for his brother, he's mouthing the word 'Sammy' but there's nobody there. Dean knows he's going to die. He's going to die and then they'll come after Sammy and rip him limb from limb and dance in his blood and rip his skin from his body and.._

They were back in the room. The sheets with the blood were the only thing Sam could focus on until he sank to his knees, the vicelike grip he had on Chris' hand dragged him down with him. Chris stared at Sam who seemed utterly broken, tears shone in his eyes but he held them back, Chris paused before reaching out and putting a hand on Sam's face, stroking his cheek gently. 'S-Sam? It'll be.. It'll be okay, I promise, we'll get him back..' Sam turned, raising his hand and placing it on Chris', holding the boy's hand to his face. Chris' face coloured again and he looked down before Sam raised it with his other hand. 'S-Sam, what're yo-?' he was cut off as Sam crushed their mouths together, Chris' eyes widened but he wasn't complaining, he lent into the kiss more, as Sam opened his mouth hungrily, their tongues now grappling. They kissed for what seemed forever before Chris broke it, licking his lips nervously. Sam was crying. 'It wasn't that bad, was it?' Chris whispered, smiling slightly but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Sam held down a sob, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to Chris'. They stayed like that until Sam had calmed down, he was sniffling, but Chris made no movement to pull away, instead he reached out and wiped some of Sam's tears away. 'We'll get him back.'

Sam nodded.

'We will, we just… we just need to find some leads.'

'We've already got one,' Sam said softly.

'W-What? Really?'

Sam nodded again, quickly kissing Chris on the side of the mouth, just because. 'Yeah, he wasn't saying Sammy.'

Chris closed his eyes, hands travelling down Sam's back as he pushed closer to the man, needing his body heat.

'He was saying Nephilim.'

Chris shuddered.

'And I know now…'

Chris screwed his eyes together.

'.. That you're one of them.'


	9. His Face is a Mask

-1_Sam nodded again, quickly kissing Chris on the side of the mouth, just because. 'Yeah, he wasn't saying Sammy.'_

_Chris closed his eyes, hands travelling down Sam's back as he pushed closer to the man, needing his body heat._

'_He was saying Nephilim.' _

_Chris shuddered._

'_And I know now…'_

_Chris screwed his eyes together._

'_.. That you're one of them.'_

Chapter Title

The atmosphere of the room had become terribly cold, Sam let Chris cling to him whilst he absorbed the information that he'd just been drenched in. Slowly, painfully slowly, Sam pushed the boy away who was looking at the floor with a look of despair on his face. He had to resist the urge to embrace the boy again, filling his mind with images of Dean's torment was enough to quickly push the tender moment out of his head.

'How long have you known?' Chris asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a bitter aftertaste. Sam had stood up now and was quickly pulling on a pair of jeans, the same unwashed ones from the day before, with urgency, hoping Chris wouldn't see his hurry. 'Not long, a day or so.'

'H-How?' Chris murmured, his eyes tightly shut, and once again Sam felt a surge of comfort and pity for him.

'I've been having a conversation with your brother, he's really the talkative type,' Sam said squarely, now tugging a shirt over his torso, idly playing with the hem in apprehension.

'What.. What did he tell you?'

'Everything.'

Chris looked up at Sam and the Winchester could see the pain, confusion and knowing in his eyes, an ocean that was beginning to ripple in the wake of an oncoming storm. 'Tell me what you know.' Sam noticed this wasn't a request.

Ignoring the demand, Sam took a pace towards Chris, a silent resolve ringing in his footstep. 'Where's Dean?'

Almost whimpering, the boy scrambled to his feet, hastily moving away from Sam. 'I-I don't know.'

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes, mocking the boy's answer. 'Chris. Tell me where Dean is. Now.'

Chris had backed himself up against a wall now, and was shaking feverishly. 'I told you, Sammy, I don't… I don't know..'

Sam gritted his teeth as his nickname floated about in the air, and with that, and the knowledge of what Chris had done despite himself, he grabbed Chris' shoulders and slammed him into the wall with a spine shaking crack. Chris cried out, but made no move to try and escape Sam's now-tightening grip. 'Where the hell is my brother, Nephilim?'

Chris shook his head, eyes screwed shut, he wasn't making a sound but Sam knew he was whispering 'No, no, no, no..'

With a heavy sigh, Sam let the boy go, taking a step backward. Chris made a sound like a dog that had been punished and crept forward. Crack, knuckles hit flesh as Sam lashed out with his fist, Chris snapped back with a electrifying jolt. 'What the fuck have you done with him?!' Sam shouted into the boy's face that was now covered in blood from Chris' busted nose. The boy didn't have chance to cry out, he was pushed back into the wall with an ugly grimace of pain on his face, features contorted into agony. Sam felt a pang of guilt but it vanished as quickly as the expression of pain on Chris' face. His lips - the ones that Sam had kissed so much earlier - curled upwards into a sneer, he opened his eyes and Sam fought the chills that raced down his spine. Chris wasn't there anymore, he had totally been taken over by whatever the hell brooded inside of him. No, Sam knew what it was. The Nephilim. The blood on his face seemed to dry up, instantly forming a crude mask of crimson, eyes were now burning with fire but Sam could see Chris, the real Chris, deep inside the depths, screaming, weeping, worrying.

'Man, Sammy, didn't think you'd have it in you,' The Nephilim rasped through bloodied lips. Sam's teeth clenched again as he swung his fist hard, aiming for another head shot but his knuckles stopped instantly, millimetres away from colliding with Chris's face. The Nephilim's face. It let out a chuckle. 'You thought it'd be that easy?'

There was a crack, whipping, and Sam flew backwards, falling to the floor with a disgruntled yelp. 'I really didn't think you'd hit your little boyfriend,' The Nephilim inside Chris said sharply and with a wave of his hand, sent Sam sprawling across the floor and into the wall with a dull thump. 'Imagine my surprise when you wanted to talk to me.' Hand gesture. Sliding. Thump. 'I guess you want to know where your brother is.' Gesture. Thump. 'Well, Sammy boy, you're about to find out.' Gesture. Thump. All of Sam's bones screamed in protest, but he stood, swayed, kept his balance. 'You sonofabitch,' he croaked out before Chris leapt forward, swinging his fist and telekinetically driving his fist into Sam's face.

Darkness.

'You've bitten off more than you can chew, Sammy.'


End file.
